


three things

by rainingroses05



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, LDSK, basically just a sort of extension of the plane scene, this is not my best writing but its been so long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 03:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19880653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainingroses05/pseuds/rainingroses05
Summary: "It just flickers through his mind like a movie, silent except for the singular gunshot, somebody else’s finger pulling the trigger while he watches with a sort of absent horror, the world’s most unwilling audience member."Reid deals with the aftermath of the events of LDSK.





	three things

It doesn’t feel real until he shows up at work. It just flickers through his mind like a movie, silent except for the singular gunshot, somebody else’s finger pulling the trigger while he watches with a sort of absent horror, the world’s most unwilling audience member. He doesn’t know what snaps him out of this haze- the crime scene photos left up from the day before, the neat stack of post-case paperwork waiting for him on his desk- but he ends up in the breakroom with his head in his hands. He’s finding it difficult to reconcile the image of Peter Dowd’s body, unmarred except for the single gunshot wound to his head, with the fact that he’s  _ here,  _ drinking coffee, like any other day. He feels sick. 

(Surreal was so much easier). 

There’s a slight shuffle of footsteps in the hall, and Spencer scrambles to busy himself, pulling his hands away from his hair to cup his mug, sipping coffee long gone cold. His eyelashes flutter wetly against his cheeks.  _ Don’t look at me.  _

Gideon pauses when he enters the room, and Spencer watches his eyes dart as he assesses the situation. He recognizes the look because he’s made the same mental calculations, quietly cataloguing items, expressions, movements. It’s the look he gets at every crime scene. 

The room picked apart- blue ceramic mug, wilting office plant, the drip of the leaky faucet, Spencer’s trembling hands and damp eyes.

Gideon turns away to refill his coffee cup.

Spencer exhales, tries to take advantage of this sliver of privacy to force his breathing to even out. 

“What’s going on?” The coffee machine whirs and clicks and sputters out a stream of coffee. 

“I think…” Spencer swallows, looks down at his hands. He tries to analyze the risks and benefits of finishing his sentence and comes up empty-handed. “I think it’s hitting me.”

Gideon nods, like that’s exactly what he was expecting to hear. “Three things.”

“What?”

The chair across from him scrapes back as Gideon sits down, setting down his coffee cup and folding his hands on the table. “The three things I told you. Say them.” 

He remembers, of course, but he has to force the words out. “I did what I had to do.” 

(It was easy-  _ bang _ . His hands didn’t shake until after, a post-adrenaline-rush drop in blood sugar. Everything’s easier when it has an explanation). 

“Good,” Gideon says. “Go on.”

“A lot of good people are alive because of what I did.” 

(A bullet hole in Dowd’s forehead, clean, so clean he wonders if maybe he really did mean to do it). 

“And?” 

“And… you’re proud of me.” Spencer rests his head on his folded arms, squeezes his eyes shut. “A man is dead as a direct result of my- I killed someone.” And it was what he had to do. And it’s his job. And it was easy- and now it’s not. He looks up and winces, waiting for Gideon to count this as one too many signs of weakness. “I-I know it’s part of the job, and I can handle that, I swear, but-” 

“Reid, you have nothing to prove. I have no doubts about your ability to do your job.” 

Spencer nods, clenching his jaw. That’s not true, of course; there’s always something to prove, and if he can’t handle this, then he doesn’t deserve to be here. But Gideon trusts him, and he’s  _ proud  _ of him, and Spencer shouldn’t need that but he does. It’s a need like hunger, like something gnawing at him from the inside,  _ just tell me I did good _ . And it’s painful and bothersome and so fucking  _ childish _ \- but then, he’s always the kid, right?

Gideon sits with him until his breathing slows and his hands don’t shake so much. When he finally stands up, Spencer still has his head in his hands, fingers digging into his temples to ward off the headache he’s felt coming since last night. “One more thing,” Gideon says, circling the table and placing a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “You belong here.”

Spencer looks up at him and blinks. “I- Thank you.” 

Gideon nods and exits the room as quietly as he came in. Back to work, just like that. 

Spencer swirls around the coffee in his mug and tries to remember the words just as Gideon said them. Somehow he knows he’ll need them again.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hi it's been over a year since i posted something here but im alive and obsessed w criminal minds !! this is pretty,,, rough but im trying to get back into writing for fun so bear with me :)


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